The Three Kings
by wrathchilde
Summary: Three one-shots told from POV's of Kyle Hobart, Opie Winston and Jax Teller.


**Burnt Offerings**

_**Summary:**__ This chapter is told from the POV of Kyle Hobart upon his return to Charming for the first time after being exiled approximately 5 years earlier. He has come back to see his son play in the event that Gemma has set up for Charming. It happens during the Season One episode Giving Back._

_I have no rights to any of the characters, locations or plotlines from Sons of Anarchy._

*o*o*o*

The whole day had been slightly askew. Besides my run-in with Jax and Opie, I had managed to avoid everybody else in the Sons. I knew I really wasn't welcome, having being exiled for my own cowardice. But I'd gotten cocky again; I'd been doing that for years.

Jax had said to come to the Clubhouse and talk to Clay, about a deal that I wanted to share with them. Everything was going well. Drinks and laughter and joking, except for the tension I got from Clay when he walked in and I offered him my hand, and wanted to talk to him.

It wasn't until they told me about a sweet Knucklehead they had back in the garage, and everyone had filed in and spread out behind me, that I got the idea that something was up. I didn't see a bike. All eyes were on me. Nobody said a word, except for Jax.

He was one of my best friends growing up here in Charming. I mean, after all, me, him, Opie…we're the sons of the first nine. Jax is a double son, his dad having been one of the founding members and now his stepdaddy Clay being one of the others.

The only two people to speak to me were Jax and Clay, Jax to tell me to take off my shirt. I knew I was in for it. I knew what was coming. Skin patch. I should have had it removed when I was exiled. That's the rules, the law. You know that when you're in an MC. But I was kind of like royalty, and the rules never really apply to royalty.

Nobody says anything, just looks at me. Clay gives me a choice. Blade or fire. I don't remember much, not clearly. I start making excuses and wandering around. Maybe there's still a chance to talk my way out of this. But then Jax is barking at me to answer the damn question, and I know it's unavoidable, inescapable. This is going to happen. I choose fire.

They lower two car jacks and pull chains out. Drape my arms across them and chain me to the racks so I can hang there. Jax offers me a bottle, the only act of kindness I'll receive. The whiskey burns as it goes down; it generally does. I hear Tig behind me, firing up the torches. You try to anticipate pain, but there's nothing like it. At first it's just cool. I think, _I can get through this_. That's when my world explodes.

Blind, searing agony shoots up my back and through my head. I scream. I scream like a girl. I scream and I holler because there's nothing else I can do. The pain is unbearable. I can feel them going across my shoulder blades, where it says Sons of Anarchy. The smell of my own burnt flesh assaults my nose. Burnt meat, like somebody's left it on the BBQ too long.

My world starts to gray out and I remember back to that day. The day Jax, Opie and I went to get the tattoos. We'd just been patched in a year before, at an age that no-one else would have been allowed. Once again, the rules in an MC are pretty strict but we got off lucky – the sons of members and all. We didn't ask if it was okay if we could get the skin patches. We just went.

It was actually Jax's idea. Go to the parlor, get the cut from our club on our back. Full patch members; it's got its privileges. Walking around town with that cut on, everybody knows who you are. We thought it'd show solidarity among the sons of founding members. I thought it'd be so cool; even when I took my cut off, there it would be for the whole world to see.

Sons of Anarchy. On my back, in my flesh. It's all we ever wanted, the three of us.

The pain getting the tattoo was nothing compared to what I'm feeling now. Everything's going dim. Nobody says anything. The only sound in the garage is that of my flesh burning, blackening. The nerves dying. Even I am beyond screaming now.

I remember Jax's voice when we got them. "Kyle, this will be so cool. Let's go get tattooed, bro."

As everything fades to black, all I hear is my flesh sizzling.

Yeah. Cool.

*o*o*o*

_**AN:**__ Thanks to my wife and fellow fan fic writer, Cass, for typing this up and giving it a quick polish. Please read and review, I'd love to know what you think. This is my first fan fic, so be kind!_


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